An enemy, burning with centuries of betrayal, has made the opening move to shatter an already divided empire. His first step, the slaying of one of Lucy’s guardians. Broken with grief and compelled by rage, Lucy embarks on a journey of vengeance to the shadowed and forgotten corners of the five lands. With those she has left by her side, sacrifices will be made to bring her closer to retribution but only if she doesn’t succumb to the manipulations of a ruthless enemy first.

Gus lives in western New York with his amazing wife and five four legged children. He decided he wanted to be a writer when he realized that he could never be a spy as good as Timothy Dalton’s Bond and that Hired Sword was not part of any growth industry. When he is not semi-busy writing, he spends his time pretending he knows what he is doing at a nine-to-five job and the rest of it complaining that it is taking way too long for them to start showing new episodes of his favorite cartoons. If you’re bored, or just a creeper, you can check out the insanity that doesn’t make it into his books on his social media outlets.

Excerpt from Traitor’s Niece: The Complications of Being Lucy Book 3

“I don’t see how a seed head can be much help to anyone but for getting strung out for the washerwoman to hang her kit on.”

With those words, any relief I had experienced reversed and my heart climbed my ribs and took up residence in my esophagus. I felt my face burn with fear and try to quench itself with a cold sweat. Worst of all, I found myself unable to move, unless you counted shivering in fright. The man’s slanderous reference to Felix’s existence as a Dru Elf, and not a mere employee of the library, indicated that he had the vision of a Herald. The accent was similar to the Troll’s who had accosted me at the zoo, and by his petulant tone, it was obvious he was one of the ones who hadn’t let old animosities toward the Elves go.

“And yet you had the decency to speak to me.” Felix responded in the snarky tone that he reserved for teenagers who gave him problems with their time online or making too much noise. “How kind.”

“You got a smart mouth on you, boy.” A different voice, same accent so clearly a Troll, spoke up and it dawned on me that Felix had said gentlemen, not gentleman. I felt my limbs start to come back under my control when I reminded them of the trouble they had given me dealing with the last Troll, and it had only been one Troll. I slid from the chair and stood in the middle of the room, still outside the line of sight from Felix’s desk, fighting with myself whether I should just start running now or wait and see how many I would have to run from.

“If you think my mouth is smart you should see my–.”

A sickening crack erupted in the near silence of the library and being unfortunately familiar with the sound of a fist meeting a face, I lunged forward to the edge of the room to check on Mr. Page. Capricorn! Four large Trolls stood before the desk, one of them rubbing his knuckles and watching Felix press a shaking hand to a split lip.

“Enough of this.” The Troll who seemed to be in charge grabbed a handful of Mr. Page’s hair and vines. “Where’s the girl?”

I threw myself against the wall and willed myself to turn invisible. It took only a second to realize that was stupid and instead wished that Frankie was there, or would get there very soon. With help.

“What are you talking about?” Felix asked, his words slurred from his damaged lip. “We get girls in here all the time.”

“We were told that she would be here.” The Troll barked, but thankfully didn’t add more violence to his words. “She’s meeting a friend.”

The way he said friend read as anything but friendly.

And who does that remind you of, cool logic spoke up with just a touch of attitude. Vienna. She set me up! I felt my hands clench into fists and my jaw twinged with the pressure of grinding my teeth in a rage. It all seemed stupidly obvious now. Invite me here to meet her and get nabbed by her Troll cohorts. Not bad after her first attempt ended in failure. She probably killed that Troll so he couldn’t talk and tell us who he was working for. Anger was quickly burning away fear and I nearly stepped out to confront the men head on, hoping that they would take me right to that little traitor so I could deal with her betrayal. My arms shook with such furious energy that I couldn’t stop them from thumping the wall at my back.

“What was that?” Another Troll voice called out. Having foolishly exposed my location, fright was quick to remind me that I was still in real danger. I pushed it aside and clung to anything that resembled an intelligent thought. It came to me quickly as I was looking right at a window cracked open to let in the cool breeze of the afternoon. I dashed for it and just got my hands on the frame when I heard the Troll, much closer now, exclaim his discovery. The old wood frame was sticking and I strained my arms to pull the sash up. I felt the floor thud with the heavy footfalls of the Troll as he rushed across the room and I gave the window one last jerk while I tried to resolve myself to the inevitability of the big man grabbing me. Surprise and joy filled me as the window at last yielded and flew open. And something flew in.

A black blur clipped my arm and spun me about to face my Troll pursuer. Primitive reflexes made me throw up my hands as some kind of defense, but no assault came. The man had stopped in his tracks as a low growl made my insides struggle to hold their bodily functions in check. Between the Troll and I Boris stood rigid, his short hair standing on end. I couldn’t blame the man for taking a step backward and keeping his focus completely on my dog. I had trouble looking away from the frightening, protective presence of my pet. The three of us stood stock still, waiting for something to give. Fear or rage. So transfixed were we three on our situation that none of us, well maybe Boris because he crept back a step, noticed Mrs. Darren enter the room. We should have, as she was running full bore with her head down. The Troll turned slightly at the last, and worst possible, second and thick golden horns crashed into his chest. The collision sounded like a felled tree finally crashes to the ground: a ground shaking thump and a lot of cracking and popping. Mrs. Darren seemed to halt her rush a moment after impact and the Troll carried the momentum, horizontally, across the room to smash into a book shelf and slump to the floor.

Slowly Mrs. Darren turned to look at me and then at Boris who was still growling but not nearly as loud.

“No dogs in the library.” Was all she said, and the paralysis I had been experiencing finally broke.

“Sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t enough, but the librarian seemed to accept it as she nodded toward the window. A shout from the other room was the last bit of motivation I needed. I crawled through the opening and after Boris leapt through after me, I ran. Making it to the intersection, I heard the sound of glass breaking behind me and felt the all too familiar sensation of being chased. I cautioned a glance backward and saw a skinny Troll racing to catch up with me, something he was doing with little effort. I was half tempted to sic Boris on him, but the thought left my mind when I looked forward and nearly tripped over the wagon of what was the only destitute person in the town.

Can Lady, as she was called, hardly reacted to my near collision with her overloaded cart of recyclables with anything more than her typical muttering. I didn’t waste energy on an apology because I couldn’t spare it and because she hardly ever took notice of the people or the voices around her. I just raced on and was both grateful and sympathetic when I clearly heard my pursuer fare less fortunately with the woman’s laden wagon. Can Lady’s muttering grew feverish over the rattle of her livelihood being scattered and I let my good fortune spur me for home.

It wasn’t until I could just see the familiar chipped and faded slats of home that I realized my mistake. In my rush to leave I had left my book bag behind. I didn’t care so much about the loss of the text books or the inability to do tonight’s homework assignments, but somewhere in that bag was information that would lead the Trolls straight to the front door I hurried to reach. It dawned on me a moment later how stupid that thought was because if I had been followed from the library, I was leading them straight home anyway.

A bark from Boris had me looking from the front door to the street where my Uncle was quickly pulling into the driveway in his ugly car. I could tell as soon as he got out that he knew exactly what was going on and for a split second I considered running back to the library. The Trolls hadn’t looked nearly as angry as my uncle did.

“What’s going on?” He demanded when I was close enough that he didn’t need to shout to be heard. I tried to answer him while catching my breath. Boris spoke for me by barking frantically down the street. I glanced back to see several Trolls rushing down the street. A lot more than I had heard in the library. “Inside!”

I didn’t argue with my uncle as he ushered me toward the front door. My tired feet hit the first step when a gunshot burst behind me.

Death seems to follow seventeen year old Sadie Sanders everywhere she goes–literally. As a mediator to the dead, she must constantly face fighting demons and the occasional angry dead girl. In WICKED TRUTHS, the third instalment of the WICKED CRIES series, Sadie learns that some secrets are meant to stay dead, for the truth, once it has been uncovered, may be wickeder than she could have ever imagined.

Death seems to follow seventeen year old Sadie Sanders everywhere she goes–literally. As a mediator to the dead, she must constantly face fighting demons and the occasional angry dead girl.

After a dangerous and almost deadly first year in Salem, Sadie’s parents decided to send her away for the summer to visit her Aunt Morgan in the small town of Nicholasville, Kentucky. After uncovering a murder hidden for centuries, she embarked on a deadly mission to solve the crime while trying to enjoy her summer vacation.

Now back in Salem, Sadie has found another hidden secret in the wicked town. Secret underground tunnels are hidden under the streets of Salem, beckoning to those with wicked souls. When Sadie encounters a ghost named Laura roaming the streets of Salem, she and her friends Noah and Lucy must uncover the clues leading to Laura’s death, which is made even more complicated by the fact that Laura has no memory about her life or death. To make matters worse, Sadie must also track down the person who has been sending her threatening messages in an effort to stop her mission for justice.

In Wicked Truths, the third installment of the Wicked Cries series, Sadie learns that some secrets are meant to stay dead, for the truth, once it has been uncovered, may be wickeder than she could have ever imagined.

For 16-year-old Sadie Sanders, dealing with the dead is growing tiresome, especially when they expect her to be their messenger from the afterlife. But when her family moves to Salem, Massachusetts, and she finds the diary of a young girl named Elizabeth who was accused of witchcraft, she may need some help. Soon, Elizabeth begins to haunt Sadie, first in her dreams and then when she’s awake. As Sadie delves into Elizabeth’s journal, she slowly uncovers the secret Elizabeth needs to reveal, and it’s one that could change the course of history. Sadie needs help, and she wonders whom, if anyone, she can tell about it. Worried that her friends and family wouldn’t believe her, or worse, prevent her from continuing her journey to find the truth, Sadie has a choice to make…and it’s not going to be an easy one.

Wicked Lies – Book 2 of the Wicked Cries Series

Sadie Sanders believed her life couldn’t get any worse when her parents moved her from sunny California, to gloomy Salem, Massachusetts. Of course Sadie was wrong–dead wrong.

After a dangerous and almost deadly first year in Salem, Sadie’s parents decide to send her away for the summer to visit her Aunt Morgan in the small town of Nicholasville, Kentucky.

Seeking normalcy from her twisted life as a messenger for the dead, Sadie hopes her stay in the small Kentucky town will be the break she needs from her paranormal obligations and a way for her to escape the demons that haunt her.

Unfortunately for Sadie, the dead don’t take a break, not even for summer vacation. Soon after arriving in Nicholasville, Sadie discovers a murder that’s been haunting the town for centuries. Refusing to ignore the injustice she uncovers, Sadie sets off on another wild adventure.

In Wicked Lies, book two of the Wicked Cries series, Sadie’s quest for justice just may be the thing that finally ends her career as a messenger to the dead, and her life

Guest Post: My Publishing Journey by Michelle Areaux

Hello all, my name is Michelle Areaux and I am excited to talk with you all today about my crazy journey in the publishing world and what inspired me to write my debut novel, Wicked Cries. When I first got the idea for Wicked Cries, I was a college student at the University of Kentucky. I was studying English as part of my degree to become a middle school language arts teacher. My true dream was to be a writer, but let’s face it: I needed a “real” job in case my dream job never came true. Thankfully, I accomplished both dreams.

My inspiration for this novel came from my interest in the Salem witch trials. I have always been intrigued by moments in our history that really defined an historical moment. I began researching the history behind the Salem witch trials. Once I began delving into the unanswered mysteries around the people, the town, and the events that transpired, I knew I was in trouble; I was hooked. I had to know more about their stories. I needed to capture that moment, but put my own twist and find my own destiny for those people. I wanted to create characters and put them in fantastic dilemmas while having a control over their fate. I also wanted to create raw characters that readers could identify with and who shared the same quirks, insecurities, strengths, and dilemmas we all face. So…I began writing a story about a young girl who found a journal hidden in a restored home her parents had purchased in Salem, Massachusetts. I wanted this character, who I named Sadie, to be a martyr for the victims and to stand up against the hate and unfair treatment of those involved. While researching the history of the events of this tragic moment in our history, I became obsessed with telling this story. As silly as it sounds, I felt like I was becoming an advocate for the people who were shamelessly condemned. Of course I had to add in a cute boy and a mean girl to add some more spice to the story line. Even though this story is fiction and contains fighting ghosts and paranormal activity, the concept behind the plot is real.

Fast forward ten years. I am a middle school language arts teacher, mother of two crazy little boys, and a wife of a very patient, and motivating husband. Wicked Cries sat untouched for almost ten years. Finally, after gaining the courage to share this story with my husband Anthony, he encouraged me to send it to agents and publishers. Now, I wish that I could say this journey was easy and that the first publisher I sent my query letter to jumped at the chance to represent me. But, sadly, that is not the case. It took another year of sending my manuscript to agents and publishers before Black Rose Writing took a risk on me and my novel and offered me a publishing contract. Black Rose Writing has been amazing, and the authors I have met along the way have been helpful and great mentors. My novel is sold on Amazon, Barnes and Noble.com, Black Rose Writing’s website, and at The Morris Book Shop in Lexington, Kentucky. The publishing journey has been crazy and exciting at times. Holding my novel in my hands was a true accomplishment and a dream come true. But having my family, friends, and students read the story and share their thoughts about the characters with me was exhilarating. My goal in becoming a published author was not to get popular or become a rock star like Jamie McGuire, Stephenie Myer or J.K. Rowling. No, I wanted to become a writer so I could share my stories with others and live my dream. Wicked Cries is more than just a story about a girl who fights ghosts and learns about the Salem Witch Trials. This story contains real life scenarios that teens and adults face. I wanted the story to be fun, educational, and something anyone could connect with. I guess the momma and teacher in me took over when writing this book.

For anyone reading this who aspires to be an author, my advice to you is simple: never give up. I know it sounds so cliché, but it is true. Once you have the idea and the itch to write a story, do it! Keep writing. Send out your story to anyone willing to take a peek at it. What’s the worst that could happen–someone says no? If you don’t try, you will never know. My novel was published ten years after its making. Forget the timeline, don’t stress about how long it takes to get noticed. Keep focusing on your dream and you will get there.

Book three in the Wicked Cries series, Wicked Truths, is now available via EMSA Publishing, wherever online books are sold. Look for the reprints of Wicked Cries and Wicked Lies by EMSA Publishing before the end of the year!

*Image by MaxMann through Pixabay CCO Public Domain agreement https://pixabay.com/en/hiking-map-orientation-hiking-shoes-1312226/

Featuring NYT, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors, we’re Coming In Hot with paranormal to contemporary, and sizzling to seductive bedside manners by the doctors, nurses, paramedics, and more in this boxed set.

Today’s Spotlight: Bad Medicine by Red L. Jameson!

When you make a deal with the devil…

Don’t complain about the heat.

Luckily, I like it hot.

Nurse Ian Ryder, or just Ryder, is everything I want. He’s big. He’s tough. He’s oh-so-sexy with his leather jacket and motorcycle that I’ve had indecent fantasies about. And even better, he seems emotionally closed off. Not the kind of man who would ask a lot of personal questions. The perfect candidate to reveal my secret—I’m still a virgin, worried I’ll die this way if I don’t do something about it soon. Somehow, I’m going to convince Ryder to play doctor with me.

Dr. Asha Whitetail is completely out of my league. Intelligent and sophisticated. And those glasses she wears makes me think about steaming up her scrubs. When an awkward moment turns into a hot kiss, I realize I’m going to do everything I can to have her—not just her body but her heart too. Problem is, she seems to want only one thing from me. So I’m going to make her an offer she can’t refuse. I’ll give her what she wants, if she spends time with me, gets to know me, the real me, while I do everything in my power to convince her she can play doctor with me…for life.

The Wild Love Series is set in Wyoming and Montana, where things are little more…wild, where love can never tamed. Each book within the series can be read as a standalone and intended for a mature and adventurous reader. Enjoy and fall in love!

Hello! Thank you for this opportunity to talk about my newest release Bad Medicine, Book 4 of the Wild Love Series, featured in the Coming in Hot Anthology! I’m so excited to share more about this book, the anthology, and even titbits about myself!

Tell us about your title featured in this set:

Bad Medicine is Book 4 of the Wild Love Series, which, although it is a series, each book is a stand-alone. I can write pretty quickly and wrote it in about three weeks. However, it’s the editing that always takes the longest with my own revisions, the back-and-forth between a beloved critique buddy of mine then the back-and-forth between my editor and me, polishing, moving on to my proofer, and polishing some more. My editing process takes anywhere between a month to two months. Oh, and the title…Hee-hee! I asked the other members of the anthology what they thought and we all agreed to Bad Medicine!

Tell us something about yourself.

Hmm, where to start? Well, I was born in Montana, but as soon as I turned eighteen I wanted to move away, so I did. I’ve lived in a lot of places during my early twenties, mostly in the South. But something kept calling me back home. Eventually, I moved back to Montana to be closer to family, met a special fella, and, well, the rest is history as they say. I love learning and have tried to continue my education with now one Master’s Degree in US Military history and several certificates—including fitness instructing to grammar to coding to you name it. But my best teacher of all is my thirteen-year-old son, wise beyond his years. I’m the luckiest mom in the world!

Tell us about your writing process.

It depends on the book. But most often an idea comes, then a few scenes, then the character “talks” to me. I know. That sounds goofy, but I’ll have days where a certain character become so clear to me it’s as if he or she is really talking to me, telling me about their background, their goals, what motivates them, everything. After a few days to months of this, I plot his or her story. Then I write it furiously down. As I mentioned above, it’s the editing that takes me the longest, and by the time I’m done, the character is done talking to me, letting another enter my mind. J

What is your favourite genre to read?

Romance and almost anything non-fiction.

What would you say is the one thing are you most passionate about?

Being a good mother. I want to be a good partner, friend, sister and writer, but every day I try so hard to be a good mom to my wonderful boy.

When you are not writing, what do you like to do?

I like reading, hiking, taking pictures on my hikes, cooking, baking, playing games with the fam…gosh, so much! There’s no shortage of fun things to do.

If someone who hasn’t read any your books asked you to describe your story in this set (the elevator pitch!) what would you say?

Nurse Ian Ryder and Dr. Asha Whitetail make the deal of a lifetime. She wants to get rid of her V-card; he wants her heart. Who will win?

About the author:

Red L. Jameson is an award-winning and multi-published author. She writes in many genres. Her pen name, L. B. Joramo, includes the odd combination of historical and paranormal for the Immortal American Series. However, it is under her “Red” name, her nickname too, where all her stories are strongly laced with love, including contemporary, historical, time-travel, paranormal, and erotic romance. Red lives in the wilds of Montana with her family and a few too many animals, and is currently working on her next novel that she hopes will make her readers laugh, cry, think, and fall in love.

Featuring NYT, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors, we’re Coming In Hot with paranormal to contemporary, and sizzling to seductive bedside manners by the doctors, nurses, paramedics, and more in this boxed set.

In Today’s Spotlight:

On Her High Horse by Lucy Felthouse

Do first impressions always last?

When veterinarian Brett Coulson and stable owner Samantha Hanson-Bishop meet, it’s hate at first sight. He thinks she’s a snobby, stuck-up bitch who wouldn’t know nice if it bit her on the arse. She thinks he’s a blundering, inexperienced little boy who shouldn’t be within fifty miles of her prized horses. But it doesn’t matter much—they’ll never have to see each other again. Or will they?

When fate throws them into the same room together at a charity fundraiser, the resentment between them quickly resurfaces. But mixed in with that resentment is something they both tried to deny… attraction. Will the chemistry between them cancel out the animosity, or were their first impressions just too powerful to change?

Now Available for pre-order at #99cents for a limited time! ***BRAND NEW & EXCLUSIVE*** at Amazon, Nook, iBooks, Kobo, and ARe.

Author Interview:

Hello—thank you so much for stopping by. I’m so excited to share a little bit about myself and my story in the Coming In Hot boxed set!

Tell us about your title featured in this set:

My story is called On Her High Horse, and is set in the Yorkshire Dales, in England. It’s an enemies-to-lovers story about a young vet and one of his clients.

Once I got going, it probably only took me a couple of weeks to write (I don’t write full time, so I have to squeeze my writing in around everything else I do to earn a living!).

The title was actually a complete nightmare to come up with! Sometimes titles come to me before I even write a story, and other times they pop up while I’m writing. This one eluded me for a long time. I was Googling horsey phrases and veterinary phrases for ages, until I finally came up with this—and it fits the story really well, I think. So it was worth waiting for!

Tell us something about yourself:

I’m from Derbyshire, in England, where I still live with my dog, Scamp. As I mentioned before, I don’t write full time—I actually do lots of little jobs which make up a full time job; writing, marketing, editing, PR, web design, formatting, etc… basically, I eat, sleep and breathe books in one way or another, so it’s pretty awesome. I love being my own boss. I love spending time out in the countryside with my other half and my dog, reading (of course), films, and travelling.

Tell us about your writing process:

It varies massively depending on what I’m writing. For novel length work, I do tend to have some kind of plan, or at the very least an outline, in place. But for short stories and novellas, I tend to just write and see where the characters take me. I write as and when I can, juggling it around everything else I do. The benefit of being my own boss is I can move projects around if I need to—as long as I meet all the deadlines, it’s all good! 😉

What is your favourite genre to read?

I don’t have one, really. I like reading different kinds of books—as long as there’s a gripping story, I’m happy.

About the author:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes.

When 17 year old Autumn finds herself alone in Los Angeles after a global pandemic, she does her best to survive. On a foray into the city, she is taken in by The Front, a group whose focus is power and repopulation. Autumn escapes and is saved by Grey, who disappears shortly thereafter. She returns to her condo where she discovers Ben and his seven year old sister, Rissi. The three of them set up house in Autumn’s penthouse and grow to become a family, but waning supplies forces Autumn out into the dangerous streets of Los Angeles in search of Grey. Due to the air of mystery surrounding him and the kindness he showed her, Grey has become all Autumn can think of lately. And she thinks she knows just how to find him, based on the directions he left her just before he disappeared.

Kirby Howell’s Autumn in the City of Angels was a great read. Howell expertly sets the scene of a believably dystopic Los Angeles. And while Autumn contains many of the plot lines familiar to this genre– a mysterious boy with whom the protagonist can’t help but fall in love; two camps, one good, one evil; most of the world destroyed by a super-virus–there is one plot twist that I didn’t foresee (and which I won’t divulge here) that makes it different from the rest. Autumn in the City of Angels is more than a simple tale of surviours in a post-apocalyptic world. The sci-fi elements are there if you look closely enough. These elements serve to throw a wrench into Autumn and Grey’s sweet love story and hooks the reader further in as the novel races toward the end.

I’ll admit I was thrown for a loop when the big sci-fi element was spelled out for me. When I went back to write this review, I realized that was because I wasn’t reading closely enough. Howell drops hints that I’d missed throughout. Simple things like Autumn’s loss of time that are credited to her injuries, have a much deeper meaning, so watch out for them when you read. And though my first impulse was to stop reading at the point of the reveal, I’m glad I didn’t. My one true complaint is that the book ends too abruptly, and without resolution, probably to leave the reader wanting more for the next book in the series. I’m one of those few people out there who don’t particularly like binge reading series, and would have preferred more of a plot resolution as a result. If you enjoy reading series, however, then you won’t be disappointed. Howell’s intention, to leave the reader wanting more, is bang on.

If you enjoy dystopic sci-fi and paranormal, romance book series, you are in for a treat in Autumn in the City of Angels.

Mamabear gives this book:

Note: I was gifted an eCopy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

For 16-year-old Sadie Sanders, dealing with the dead is growing tiresome, especially when they expect her to play messenger to the afterlife. Her constant struggle to mend teenage broken relationships and translate last wishes seemed to be her biggest problem.

Up until recently, Sadie had been able to juggle her double life without anyone detecting she was not only an average high school student, but a messenger to the dead as well. Even after a close call at the local teen night club, Sadie was able to keep her secret hidden. But when her father decided to move her family clear across the country from sunny Los Angeles, California to gloomy Salem, Massachusetts, Sadie wondered if the move would be the fresh new start she needed to leave her old, wicked life behind and become a normal high school girl.

Only Sadie was wrong, dead wrong. Once in Salem, Sadie finds a hidden journal from Elizabeth, a once persecuted witch who documented the last few days of her terrifying life. Desperately wanting to push the journal aside and begin her new life, Sadie finds herself haunted by Elizabeth, but this time is different.

Elizabeth desperately needs Sadie’s help to clear her name, but one man attempts to destroy Sadie’s journey to uncovering Elizabeth’s truth.

Sadie’s only goal, to make it through high schpol without another deadly adventure.

About the Author:

Michelle Areaux is a wife, mother, and seventh grade language arts teacher. When she’s not playing with her boys or teaching, she writes. Her passion for writing stems from reading everything from The Babysitters Club series to The Outsiders. She strives to write fiction that her children, students, and grandmother would enjoy.

Michelle earned her Bachelor’s degree at the University of Kentucky and teaches in Lexington, Kentucky.

In Kathryn Knight’s Divine Fall, Jamie meets Dothan, the handsome and mysterious stable hand, Dothan, who works at the barn where she likes to ride. They soon strike up a relationship, which worries her “adoptive” grandfather, Nathaniel, who disapproves. Dothan, it seems, isn’t the only one with a secret past, and neither one is as they seem.

Divine Fall begins with a Twilight vibe, in which a supernatural boy saves a regular girl from potential harm and they fall in love, and Fox Run, where the story takes place has some parallels with Forks, but that’s where the similarities end. There is also a Romeo and Juliet feel to it in that overprotective Nathaniel forbids Jamie from seeing Dothan, and like the infamous star-crossed lovers, they refuse to listen, which almost leads to their demise. Knight’s novel is a suspenseful page-turner. In Divine Fall, she explores a universe where Nephilim walk the earth, in a clean, romance thriller that is not without its steamy side.

I recommend Divine Fall to lovers of paranormal fiction searching for a new take on the genre. Though the protagonist is quite mature, without parents, and living on her own, teen girls will still be able to identify with her. Because the protagonist is quite mature, Knight’s novel will also appeal to readers of new adult (and adult) fiction as well. My initial comparison to Twilight aside, Divine Fall is a quick read, sure to keep you questioning Dothan’s origin, his connection to Nathaniel, and whether Jamie will choose to embrace Dothan, Nathaniel, or neither, as the story unfolds.

Mamabear gives this book:

Note: I was gifted an eCopy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

This collection includes:
“Scary Lady” – Two kids retrieve a skateboard from a haunted house, what should possibly go wrong?
“The Kill” – A man making the ultimate kill.
“Baby Talk” – A strange voice coming from a baby monitor?
“Cave Terrors” – Sex in a cave, the perfect idea, right?
“The Auction Hoarder” – A girl brings home an odd painting, but it’s the boyfriend that is afraid.
“A Jogger’s Nightmare” – Jogging is good for you, unless….
“Man in the Top Hat” – A young girl can see something that adults cannot.
“Underground Hell Club” – An illegal rave that ends in terror.
“Don’t Look Down” – Wake up atop a skyscraper with no way down, what would you do?
“Julie’s Bridal Boutique” – Julie has a visitor, but it isn’t a wedding dress she wants.
“The Lighthouse” – The perfect place to hide from the rain, until they have to hide from other things.
“Nestled” – A man wakes up in a very sticky situation.
“The Hotel” – Maids get their revenge.
“The Weird Warehouse” – Curiosity killed the child.
“The Gaming Addict” – Video games are bad for your health, no really.
“Clown Karma” – A thief gets more than he bargained for.

They both stood side by side in the heavy downpour, freezing, both fearing the same thing. That they would have to go inside the manor, the one that was supposedly haunted by an old lady.

“I’m scayered,” Jack moaned, lip shaking.

“I am too, but you want your skateboard back don’t you?” Dan asked. He nodded his head gingerly.

“Dad will be real mad if we go back without it. He spent a lot of money on that and you have only had it a week, we need to get it back,” Dan advised, frantically searching for another way around this nightmare, but feared there was none.

“’An wee buy a new wun?” he asked, not quite at the age to understand the value of money just yet.

“Neither one of us have enough cash to do that, Jack. It’s okay, I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Dan squeezed Jack’s hand as they stared at the wooden building.

The street was drenched, glossed in salt water, moonlight bouncing off almost every surface. They stood in front of a row of large houses with pristine lawns, and white picket fences, all except the house the two young boys…stood in front of, that was ready to fall apart. Dan and Jack, both decked out in rain-ravaged jeans and jackets, were currently illuminated by the street light, but very soon would have to leave its circle of yellow safety, and tread into the uncertainty of the darkness.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Dan said, taking a step in his chunky skater trainers.

Jack reluctantly followed, like a dog being dragged by its liege. Their footwear slapped on the pavement, spattering in puddles as they approached the rusty iron gate. Dan curled his fingers around the corroded shaft, easing it forward, as it creaked into the night with a banshee-like howling. Jack whimpered at the gate’s raucous, pulling back harder on Dan’s arm, leaning against it.

He peered at the gate, and then back at Dan, and started walking again. Both of them followed the gravelled path up to the front door, passing overgrown grass on either side of them. Their torn denim jeans dragged on the golden grains as they neared the steps ascending to the door. Each wooden beam strained under their weight, having clearly been ravaged by termites. Dan worried that the manor may collapse with them in it; it didn’t take a genius to determine it was on its last legs, ready to fall to a splintery death. Why didn’t we just play in our own street? Why did we have to play further? Dan hated himself for being incapable of telling his little brother no. But he assumed it was a side effect of their mother having been killed recently, and not wanting to deny his sibling anything that would make him happy. Dan was only sixteen, but even he understood things that perhaps he shouldn’t.

They reached the top, both a bag of nerves, only Dan concealed it better, with a clenched jaw and stiff face. As Dan twisted the ice cold doorknob and nudged it open, Jack moaned again.

He turned to his little brother and bent down, “Jack, listen, we need to be brave now, okay? This is just a scary looking house, ghosts aren’t real. So can you be a brave little soldier for me?” Dan asked, smiling.

He briefly considered saying, ‘Be brave for mummy’, but even Dan knew that was likely to detonate an explosion of tears. Jack lowered his head slightly, but his eyes looked up at Dan, “I gewes,” he mumbled, unsettled. At that instant Jack was so cute and innocent, it killed Dan to have to drag his brother into the house with him. But outside in the dark, in this weather, with potential weirdos and kidnappers, there was no way Dan was not taking him along.

Dan stood straight, looking ahead at the open door, and the dark abyss beyond it. A heaviness weighed down on his chest, crushing his windpipe, and making him wheeze slightly. Against all his better judgement, he moved through the threshold with his younger companion. Moonlight shone through the broken glass of the windows, and creeped through ones that had wooden planks nailed across them. They hesitantly walked on, scanning everywhere for the skateboard’s location. It could be near the front window it shattered through, but if it landed on the wheels, Dan knew how far it was capable of travelling, but prayed it had bumped into something, halting its journey. Their eyes flicked from the ripped sofas to the peeling wallpaper, dusty light fixtures, and faded rugs. That was when Dan was blessed with an idea to speed things up, and get them out of there sooner.

“The camera on this phone is amazing, we will see better with the night vision light,” Dan exclaimed, eyes glued to the screen, fingers dotting and swiping, until a bright beam glowed from the front of it.

This harsh lighting exposed the filth that layered every surface, the dust, grit, and cobwebs nestled into every corner.

Dan coughed as he stepped into the living room, noticing a rotten smell, like sweat, faeces and expired milk, mixed together in an old blender. Ignoring the burning of his nostrils, he shone the beam to the front window, jagged edges still clung onto the frame, wind whistling past them. A shard of glass crunched underfoot as he tread closer.

“Be careful where you stand, Jack, watch the glass,” Dan protectively advised, as he trailed his camera down to the floor at the fragments scattered around his feet. Dan followed the pieces, shrinking in size and becoming scarce, hoping the green, wheeled board would be close. In his hunt he saw Jack looking towards the living room wall, transfixed on one spot, his eyes wide in terror and mouth agape, as if he had seen a ghost.

Jack’s arm rose, and he pointed towards the fireplace. It had a cracked mirror above it, and a collection of silver candle holders on the mantel, but nothing obscenely scary was there. Dan was confused. “Jack, what is it?” he asked, tiptoeing to him slowly, crouching at his side.

“Scawee laydee.”

Scary lady.

Dan whipped forwards and his eyes fearfully darted around the room, heart racing, looking for this lady. But there was still nothing, to Dan’s enormous relief.

“Jack, there is nothing there,” he replied, eyes still rolling around, searching, unable to fully settle.

When his peripheral vision detected movement from his phone’s screen, he looked at the live video recording to see an old woman dressed as a clown looking into the camera, grinning.

Dan froze in horror, stuck on the screen that had picked up something the human eye couldn’t detect: her grey, scraggly hair with spots of paint, pruned face, overdrawn red lips, black circled eyes, and a set of fangs!

Dan’s face went numb, and Jack continued to stand, equally as paralysed. The woman’s mouth was crammed with sharp fangs, and a lizard-like tongue hissing behind them. This snapped Dan out of his fright-induced coma, and he grabbed Jack’s hand and ran for the front door. They scurried like rats down a sewer, but as they got to the door, it slammed shut. Jack instantly begin to sob, Dan also felt the need to express his anxiety by wailing. But being the protective older brother, he had to keep Jack safe, as he had promised. On his mother’s death bed she had told Dan to always look after his younger brother, to keep him from harm. Her words rang in his mind like a soothing lullaby, giving him strength to carry Jack away from the door and ascend the staircase behind them. Jack’s cries echoed in Dan’s ears as he bounced up each step, worried the lady may grab his foot, or magically appear in front of them. Black and white photos hung on the wall quaking as he travelled to the first floor. Dan turned down a corridor, kicked open a door at the end, and took his brother inside.

He lowered Jack to the ground and closed the door, being sure to lock it. The light on his phone still glowed, and he used it to scan the room. A children’s room, similar to theirs, but one that hadn’t been used in decades. Lint atop everything, except a blue quilt crumpled on a single bed near a bedside table, and chest of drawers. Dirty, broken toys lay on the floor below it, crayons piled into a corner underneath drawings that were pinned to the wall.

“Iz shee guna geyt uws?” Jack hushed, standing near the bed.

“Not if we stay quiet,” Dan responded, examining the rest of their current confinement, racking his brain for a way out. The memory of the skateboard careening through the glass, spidering cracks along it before breaking the translucent pane erupted in his head. In through the window, we need to go out the window! Dan waded through the mesh of toys and books, reaching the window. The glass was covered in tiny hand prints which sent chills crawling down his spine, a thick build up of muck clouding visibility of the street out front. But as he tapped the window with his finger, he knew it would break easily, he just needed something heavy enough. Dan turned, looking around, more focused this time, when he saw a wooden chair under a desk in the corner. He sprang to it and grabbed the chair, but it wouldn’t lift; it was deceptively heavy. Panting and pulling, it wouldn’t budge. It was as if it was nailed to the floor. As he struggled he lost grip of his phone and it cast a light over his foot.

Disorientation flooded Dan’s skull, questions bashed the walls and scraped the marrow. How did she get in? How is she holding the chair down? Why can’t I see her with my bare eyes and Jack can? But none of these thoughts would change the fact that this insidious ghostly entity was in the room with him and his brother. These enigmas soon flung from his mind when the phone was grabbed from Dan’s hand and floated in mid-air, aggressively shining light into his eyes. Squinting, he managed to flounder for the chair, lift it, and thrash it into the window at his side. As Dan predicted, the window fractured instantly, and the chair was sucked outside, as a gust of cold air dashed inside.

“Jack, climb out the window, watch the glass!” Dan yelled, still creasing his face at the blinding light. A second later a tiny body brushed past Dan crunching through smashed window remnants, followed by a whooshing sound. Dan turned away from the hovering light and looked to the vacant area around the window. Jack must have jumped out. Leaving his phone in her grasp, Dan followed his brother, but didn’t climb through the window; he jumped. Launching through the air, tumbling on a small roof, he was yanked down to the ground by gravity, his fall being cushioned by the doughy, moist grass. Before allowing himself time to absorb anything, or recover from the fall, he shouted in the fleeting rain, “Jack.”

A rustling came from behind him, he flipped to see Jack’s head popping out through the grass, like a floating football. “RUN!” Dan shouted.

Scared beyond comprehension, they both sprinted through the untrimmed garden, burst through the gate, and raced down the oily looking road, rain dimpling the puddles. Their feet splashed in wet patches, soaking their socks, dirtying their jeans, but they didn’t care, they only cared about getting out of that house, and away from the old lady. After some heavy running, and breathless panting, Jack was the first to get to the white picket fence of their home. He hunched over it and recovered from the hectic scampering.

“Shheee woz scaree,” Jack fretted through deep breaths.

“Yes she was, let’s never go back there, and don’t worry, I’ll save my pocket money and get you a new skateboard.” Dan patted his brother’s back, which was soaked, his jacket dotted in mud and grass stains.

“You two, inside and to bed, it’s late,” their dad shouted from the front door.

Jack went first, then Dan, as they each brushed their teeth, took a shower, and went to bed. Both lay in their single beds opposite one another in their space-themed bedroom, when Jack saw something glimmering. It wasn’t the glow-in-the-dark spaceships stuck to the walls, or the huge moon clock on the cabinet near the window, and it wasn’t the various lights from electrical appliances such as games consoles, TVs, and DVD players. It was something else.

“Dayn,” Jack whispered.

Dan grumbled from under the covers like a caveman, “What?”

“Thee skaytebored iz heirr,” his voice high pitched.

Dan jerked from his slumber and looked between their beds, where the stars sparkled through the window, lighting the area. Among the smelly clothes, and stinky shoes, was the skateboard.

Both of them yelped when the wheels snapped off, as if an enormous weight had been applied to it.

“Dan…..”

“Yes?” Dan had a feeling what Jack was going to say, but prayed he was wrong.

“Thee scayree ladee iz stud on it.”

Then a bright light came on from a phone, hovering in mid-air. She had followed them home.

About Wesley Thomas

Published two novellas, one novel, two short horror story collections, Amazon best seller in five categories, one short story published in a horror anthology, one short story featured in Horror Zine’s latest magazine (print and digital), several radio interviews and national/local paper interviews, Twitter interview live from NYC, novel featured in Scream (British horror magazine), contributor to horror website horrornovelreviews.com, several published blogs.

After ten books and nearly a million words, the Dream Series will be complete on October 20th. Book number ten, Dream Wedding, will be released, along with Dream Fragments, a collection of short stories that fill in some of the gaps between the novels of the series.

What’s it about?

It ought to be a joyful time for Dr. Sara Alderson. Her daughter, Lizzie, is about to graduate college, and marry her longtime boyfriend. But the family’s happiness is shattered when a drunk driver seriously injures her teenage son in a hit-and-run accident.

Now, instead of planning her daughter’s wedding, Sara must fight to save her son’s life. And when she discovers who the drunk driver was – someone she thought was a colleague and a friend – she has to fight her desire for revenge. Because Sara knows she has the power to visit the driver’s dreams, and in those dreams, she holds the power of life and death.

Britbear’s Book Reviews is thrilled to feature author Glenn Maynard in today’s spotlight.

From the Black Rose Writing site:

Carter Spence is a 26 year-old accountant out of Boston who has an out-of-body experience following a car accident that kills his parents. He views the chaos from above the scene of the accident, then passes through the tunnel and reunites with relatives who have long been dead. A woman he does not recognize approaches him and says, “Welcome, son.” Her message to him is that he needs to be aware of his true identity and should follow signs that will lead him there. She mentions mountains, but Carter is jolted back into his physical body before she can finish.

After burying his parents, Carter heads west and meets a free-spirit named Brenda, whom he is drawn to on many levels. She becomes his travelling companion and leads him to Boulder, Colorado, and to an old white house of an old man named Martin. Diaries, hypnosis, and past-life regression reveal a bizarre connection between these three. Carter discovers that the truth to his identity can only be found by pursuing the answer to whether he is the reincarnation of his biological father in what is shaping up to be a love affair rekindled beyond the grave.

Welcome, Glenn. Your Amazon author page says you worked for a year as a travel correspondent. Can you talk a bit about that experience? Is there a connection between this experience and Strapped into an American Dream?

After I got married, my wife and I quit our jobs, sold our cars, bought a used RV and travelled through the 48 continental states for an entire year. I needed something to write about, so I created something. I contacted a couple local newspapers about my trip and generated some interest. I then became a travel correspondent for these newspapers and published twenty articles along the way. Every two weeks throughout the year I would send off a story, and readers could follow along with these monthly updates. I published my first book, which detailed the people and places along the way in the USA, entitled Strapped Into An American Dream.

Ingenious idea!

Tell us a bit about Desert Son. Why choose to begin it with an out of body experience? Why choose to incorporate reincarnation in the story, too.

The story begins with Carter involved in a horrific car accident that kills his parents. I chose to begin this story with an out-of-body experience because there was a significant message from a woman he did not recognize who was claiming to be his mother. She told him to follow signs to reach the truth. There is a bizarre twist in this tale when he follows signs out west to Boulder, Colorado. The story revolves around the topic of reincarnation. Carter discovers that it is up to him to find out if he is the reincarnation of his biological father. The out-of-body experience was a spin-off of the reincarnation theme since this was a paranormal novel that needed injections of paranormal.

What genre do you consider Desert Son and why?

This has been a paranormal novel all along, but it is being marketed as a paranormal romance because boy meets girl. It might not be the first time they met, but the book was categorized as a paranormal romance for the better marketing plan.

Your webpage has links to three blogs you maintain. Why choose to maintain three separate blogs as a part of your author platform rather than combine them into one?

It’s one blog, but four separate pages. I have pages for my two books, a poetry page, and a page for my life that is not book related. When I write about non-book topics that I wish to share with Facebook, then I use that page. Every once in a while I have a poem in me and use [my] Poetry page. The two different book pages…well, that’s self-explanatory. I originally had a page for my first book, but when the second child came along, I needed a place to put it. Instead of creating another blog, I created another page within the original blog.

Speaking of the Poetry blog, why do you write poetry? Do you prefer writing prose novels or poetry?

When I was an English major in college (UCONN) I was taking Shakespeare and other complicated poetry classes that included notes on the bottom so you knew what the hell they were talking about. I would receive cash from my parents and siblings as a poor college student, and in return I would write funny poems. My family enjoyed the poems so much that I was getting more money sent just so I would thank them poetically. Sometimes I would write poems about other things, like when my dog died, or when my grandfather passed, as a way of coping; mourning. I created a poetry blog just to have a better way to keep track of my writing and to just have more out there with my name on it. I read my poetry at large family functions now. It’s a lot of fun and people love to laugh at it (some readings are on YouTube, but writing novels takes the cake. It’s a whole different ballgame and it cannot be compared to knocking off a poem in a day or two. Writing a novel is like having a baby (I apologize in advance to all the moms out there).

It certainly feels like birthing a baby sometimes, doesn’t it?

Your bio says you’ve had twenty articles published. Where were they published? What were they on? In a previous question I asked if you prefer writing fiction or poetry. Now I ask if you prefer writing non-fiction to fiction?

When I was traveling through the country, I was writing monthly travel articles to the Glastonbury Citizen and the Bristol Press, two local papers back home. I also wrote an article that appeared in the Sunday edition of the newspaper in Pocatello, Idaho. Readers would follow us along as I updated them monthly on the places we’d been, and the expected path ahead. I have written one non-fiction book and one fiction book, and my third book is a sequel to my fiction book, Desert Son, so therein lies the answer. I love writing fiction!

Your WordPress blog has quite a few posts on social media. What are your opinions about social media with respect to building your author profile?

I’m still trying to figure it out. I think all authors are in the same boat. There is no magic formula, and it’s a trial and error and see what works process. I share my blog posts with Facebook and LinkedIn. Now Facebook is set up so that you only reach about 10% of your established audience. There has to be a mixture of social media, reviews, newspaper ads detailing your speaking engagements, etc.

Talk a bit about your writing process and Desert Son from start to finish.

The idea for this book came after reading the book, Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation, by Ian Stevenson. This book was about the spontaneous recall of previous lives by children. I was so fascinated by these children in third world countries recalling lives of people who had died, and who had lived an unreachable distance from these kids. Researchers would then follow the kids’ claims and travel to talk to the surviving members of the deceased’s family. The claims of the children exactly portrayed the deceased, sometimes including the language they spoke, and with information that nobody other than the deceased would know. Desert Son evolved from this book.

The topic of reincarnation is certainly an interesting one.

What about your next project? Can you tell us a bit about that?

I have written the sequel for Desert Son, and [I’m] contemplating a third and final book in the series. The sequel occurs four years later, and the paranormal [theme] continues with that very bizarre twist occurring just as it did in the first book.

Is there anything else you’d like to tell your readers but that’s not included in these questions?

You will never see me do air quotes or say “if you will,” “per se” or “at the end of the day.”

Thanks so much for the interview, Glenn. How can readers discover more about you and you work?

Glenn Maynard is the author of the books Strapped Into An American Dream and Desert Son. He has a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from the University of Connecticut, and a degree in Communications. After spending 4 years living in Denver, Colorado, he returned home to Connecticut and now resides in Wethersfield. Glenn has a 14 year-old son named Andrew. As a travel correspondent for three newspapers while exploring the United States, Canada and Mexico during his one-year journey, Glenn published a total of twenty newspaper articles. His story was captured on the NBC local news upon his return.